


The Sum of Choices

by PreseaMoon



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3363137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreseaMoon/pseuds/PreseaMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judar never used to dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sum of Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Affection
> 
> I was aiming to write Hakuryuu being affectionate, but that kid is subtle. In any case, I write Judar super affectionate/in love by default, therefore I am automatically successful.

While Judar was growing up and until relatively recently, he never dreamed. The way he slept in general was so different compared to the present he hesitates to label either as “sleep”. It’s not something he really knows how to describe, but before it was like… when he slept, his consciousness was locked inside a box where it was dark and suffocating, and he couldn’t see the walls but knew they were close, that he’d hit them if he reached out. He was always tired when he woke up, but he never had trouble falling asleep or staying asleep.

And now when he sleeps it’s not like that at all. He falls forever through spiraling darkness and is dropped out feeling somewhat refreshed. Or at the very least not completely exhausted. But those hours of unconsciousness are punctured with nightmares. They are horrific and intense, and he cannot believe they eluded him for the first eighteen years of his life. He now understands the comfort Hakuryuu desperately craved— _needed_ as a child afflicted with nightly terrors.

He can remember when Hakuryuu stopped seeking comfort despite the nightmares remaining. It makes Judar angry, he thinks, angry and horribly affronted at the gall of this world to trap his king in such a position, where the only option was to endure. There came a point where he was so distraught he finally accepted Judar’s arms, and that might be the most unforgivable thing about it.

If Hakuryuu still has nightmares he hides them well. He never wakes up scared or uncertain where he is, the way Judar often does. 

Dreams as a whole are something Judar is unfamiliar with, and the frequently surreal quality of them makes the nightmares that much worse, twisting them from horrific to outright terrifying. However, that is not enough to remind him they aren’t real. Some indistinct thing always latches on to him and makes him forget it’s all in his head. When he opens his eyes he can’t remember reality until he sees Hakuryuu, and sees him smile or blink or breathe, and the truth floods through him like a cleansing acidic rain.

It is so unlike anything he has ever experienced, both the nightmares and the effect they have on him. The way Hakuryuu can clear the smoke in his head with his presence alone, with a simple touch or look, is like magic.

Hakuryuu never said anything, either about the dreams or Judar’s withheld reactions to them, but he still knew. He would curl his arm around Judar’s waist and hold his forehead to his shoulder, giving surety of his presence and support without a single word. And Judar would hold him back every time, offering comfort his king no longer seeks but is willing to accept from him, and they’d remain like that for hours and hours—until the morning broke and exhaustion stole what little wakefulness they had remaining.  
Judar doesn’t need comfort the way young Hakuryuu did, but it is undeniable nice.

Judar shuffles across the bed to Hakuryuu, and then climbs on top of him after he’s encouraged him to his back. The silk sheet covering them slips down Judar’s back to cup low around his hips. They’ve taken to sleeping unclothed recently, because whether they do or not they’ll end up in a variation of this anyway. It’s hard not to when they spend so many nights sleeplessly wrapped up in each other.

“Hakuryuu, I can’t sleep,” he complains.

“Is that so?”

He touches Hakuryuu’s face as though it will get across the urgency he doesn’t feel. “I had a dream.”

“What was it about?” Hakuryuu asks like the words are being read from a script he can’t care to memorize. 

Sometimes he thinks to lie, because he doesn’t know how to express the empty shapes and sensations he’s left with upon waking. Other times he means to lie, because the lie will carry the same weight and value as the truth he does not know how to voice, but all that ever comes out is honesty he can’t be sure makes sense. It’s a routine they’re used to by now, but Judar kind of likes it. The repetitiveness, the familiarity; the beginning, middle, and end all consistent and neat like a story that won’t change no matter how often he checks.

“I don’t know.” He closes his eyes and concentrates. “But… I couldn’t move. I was tied down, I think, and when I tried to move I couldn’t breathe. And when I couldn’t breathe the rukh panicked, but their panic only made it harder to breathe. And there was… something crawling in my ear—my head, trying to tell me something but it was all gibberish, and it was loud and I couldn’t breathe.” He can feel his throat close up just thinking about it. He has to open his eyes to remember he’s not asleep, and then there’s Hakuryuu, looking back at him with something that might be a smile and it makes his muscles relax.

He runs his hands up Hakuryuu’s stomach and closes them around his neck as he leans over, and then he arches his back to look down at his king, whose eyes are deep and empty and lovely. His fingers stroke Hakuryuu’s neck, his nape, up to his chin and jaw, down to his collarbone. He does so lightly, with his nails, watching and feeling the reactions so delicate and close to his body he could mistake them as his own.

Hakuryuu’s breathing deepens slowly. He fidgets on the bed, seeking a better alignment than what Judar has provided. His hand goes to Judar’s knee, climbs up his thigh then drags down and repeats.

Judar spreads his legs further and settles his hands just below Hakuryuu’s chest. After a few breaths he proceeds to move his hips and press down the way he would if Hakuryuu were inside him. As he does so he can feel the visceral sensations that aren’t there, and moans low in his throat, feeling it resound from his belly to his toes. He keeps moving, refusing to stop, catching friction here and there as he pretends. Occasionally there are the pokes and brushing of Hakuryuu against his thighs and backside, and the evidence of his king’s arousal makes him keen and press against him more but it isn’t enough—nothing is ever enough.

There’s nothing within reach to do this properly. They might have run out, but he doesn’t feel like checking—doesn’t want to move away or stop or think. He wants Hakuryuu inside him. And he wants to be inside Hakuryuu just as much. The pain doesn’t matter to him, but it matters to Hakuryuu. Despite everything, his king has a soft heart.

Hakuryuu bucks up against him as he grinds down and Judar gasps abruptly, like that spot inside him has been hit just right, deep and rough to the point he can barely react. His tingling skin feels too close to his ribs and he thinks he may have ruptured something—he hopes he has. He pauses to catch his breath, and then he laughs it all away. 

Hakuryuu’s single hand rises, approaching his face like he means to run it through his hair, but Judar moves quickly. He extends his head to nudge Hakuryuu’s palm, much like a cat would, before taking hold of it. He keeps it cradled to his cheek, where Hakuryuu’s thumb brushes over his cheekbone and his fingers fidget restlessly.

Judar resumes moving, slowly rocking his hips forward and finding a steady rhythm that prevents him from fully regaining his breath. He takes what remains of Hakuryuu’s left arm in his hand, holding him by the elbow delicately. “If Ithnan were alive, I’d kill him for taking your arm. He knew you were my favorite.” He kisses Hakuryuu’s palm. “That’s probably why he did it. How dare he.”

“How dare he do that to you, or me?”

“Both. Harming you harmed me, wronging me wronged you. One and the same.”

Judar can’t decipher the look Hakuryuu gives him. All of his king’s expressions are complex and deceiving to some degree, because they can’t help trying so very hard to disguise how thin and hollowed out he is. Judar likes it best when Hakuryuu’s emptiness is on full display. It is invaluable proof of their similarity. But these sorts of looks, where charm and warmth sprout with vigor from dark cracks, are a close second. Just as he has chosen Hakuryuu to be his king, Hakuryuu has chosen him in return.

Hakuryuu’s hand worms to the back of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss Judar eagerly returns. And he thrusts a few more times so he can moan loud and wanton into Hakuryuu’s mouth before dropping onto him and latching to his side, pulling one of them to the other like he’s hoping they’ll fuse together.

He draws away a little, inviting Hakuryuu to climb on top of him, but Hakuryuu turns in to him instead. He chastely brings their lips together before tucking his head to Judar’s chest, intertwining their legs, and moving against him almost discreetly. In response, Judar can’t help wrapping his arms around Hakuryuu’s back to keep him as close as possible. 

He can feel Hakuryuu’s lips on his skin, murmuring love or acceptance or antipathy or nothing—all of it, none of it, Judar will accept whichever. He can’t hear his king’s words, but he doesn’t need to, and his king doesn’t need to hear his, but he mouths them anyway.


End file.
